


i don’t want what you have, i want to be you

by marshmallownose



Category: House of Anubis
Genre: Caroline just wants recognition, Character Study, Chess Metaphors, Gen, Harriet is naive, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kinda, We deserved more backstory, idk just read it, this didn’t end up quite the way I wanted, title from “Brutus” by the Buttress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29341332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallownose/pseuds/marshmallownose
Summary: “You just need rest,” Caroline would say. “Why don’t you let me help you take care of him?”Harriet would only shake her head and take her sister’s hand. “No, it’s my job. I’m the Keeper, after all. But thank you, Carrie.”Caroline just nodded quietly, and squeezed Harriet’s hand a little tighter than necessary.
Relationships: Harriet Denby & Caroline Denby
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	i don’t want what you have, i want to be you

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore Caroline more but it ended up more of Harriet so idk take it

Thomas Denby was a smart man, but, more importantly, he was a good man. He was a brilliant engineer and a connoisseur of ancient history, with a jolly laugh and a smile as radiant as the sun that scorched the sands of Egypt.

It was clear why Louisa and Robert had warmed up to him when they’d first arrived at what was to be the Anubis Estate. Thomas was a wonderful associate and an even more wonderful friend.

They’s spend hours chatting over tea, discussing the Frobisher-Smythe’s adventures while Sarah and Thomas’ son, Thomas Jr., who was only a few years older than Sarah herself, would run around the grounds, often accompanied by the caretaker’s son.

It was unsurprising then, that a good man should raise a good son with a pure heart. In the wake of Louisa’s death and Ammut’s curse slowly seeping into every fiber of his being, Robert knew what lineage he must turn to in order to circumvent the dire consequences of his sacrifice.

The Denby family was therefore named his keeper. Thomas Denby constructed a machine to maintain his friend’s vitals, and Robert himself used the recipes and incantations he’d discovered in the tombs he and his party had, admittedly, desecrated to imbue it with the power of eternal life. 

And so it was that Thomas Sr. passed down the knowledge to Thomas Jr., who then, when the hour had not yet arrived for the ceremony, passed down the task of Keeper to his only daughter Harriet.

* * *

Harriet was a responsible girl, but, more importantly, she was a _good_ girl. Born on a cold morning at the blustery beginning of March, it didn’t matter how ferociously the bitter wind whipped outside the hospital window for the sweet baby’s heart was warm and pure enough to be felt almost tangibly.

Indeed, she was a blessing from the gods, and took to her role as Keeper as easily as a duck might take to water. As soon as she was old enough, she’d sit down in her grandfather’s antechamber by the tank with the Sleeping Man and talk to him. Once, when her mother asked the four year old what she was doing, Harriet had simply smiled and said, “I’m just keeping him company! You can tell he’s lonely.”

Harriet knew what it was like to be lonely, too. She had no siblings, nor had she many friends. Her parents hired private tutors for her studies, since her father especially feared attending school might corrupt her heart.

There was only one little girl in the area who Harriet called her friend, and she cared for her with her whole, pure heart.

Caroline Keller was two years younger than Harriet. She was scrawny and her clothes didn’t fit quite right, always a little too big and long in places they shouldn’t be. Caroline didn’t talk very much about herself either, but was more often content to listen to Harriet’s tales with rapt attention.

She was bossy when they played their games, always naming herself the queen while relegating Harriet to serving girl or something of that nature; Harriet never minded very much, so long as her friend was happy.

She never invited Harriet over to her house, always waving the suggestion away with no room to ask any questions on the subject. She only ever visited the Denbys.

“Where do you go to school, dear?” Thomas Jr. asked a six year old Caroline one night over dinner.

Caroline just shrugged. “I don’t go to school,” she said simply. When pressed further, she didn’t answer. While washing up after dinner, both adults noticed bruising at the base of her neck, and it looked rather fresh. Mr and Mrs Denby grew worried, but decided it ultimately wasn’t their business.

* * *

Once, Harriet snuck Caroline down into her grandfather’s antechamber to show her the Sleeping Man.

“Robert is his name,” Harriet explained proudly. They were six and eight respectively. “Papa says I’m supposed to help wake him up.”

Caroline cocked her head as she stared at the man’s obscured face; Harriet thought she rather looked like a bird. “He looks proper dead,” she finally said. “You keep a dead man in your cellar?”

Harriet gave Caroline a friendly shove—she missed how her friend hissed in pain—and laughed. “No, silly, he’s not dead! He’s just sleeping! Robert’s cursed, but Papa says if I do some sort of ceremony right, he’ll wake up and the curse will be broken.”

Caroline hummed, tracing her tiny fingers over the metal work in fascination. “What happens if you do it wrong, then?”

Harriet’s face crumpled, and she began to fold in on herself. “Oh…it’s supposed to be terrible, Carrie, it really is. He’ll wake up evil—really evil—steal your soul and feed it to a terrible monster.”

“That just sounds like something my mum would say to give me nightmares.”

“Well, your mum doesn’t sound very nice,” she replied, taking Caroline’s hand and tugging her back upstairs.

“No,” agreed Caroline, “I like your parents far more.” She paused, then looked down at her hands. “I think my mum is going away soon.”  
  
Harriet wrinkled her nose. “How do you know?”

Her friend shrugged. “She told me so.”

* * *

A week later, Ms. Keller was found in her bathroom, an empty bottle of pills in her hand and a vacant, glassy expression in her eyes.

Caroline just looked at her mother, dead on the floor, and didn’t say a word. One of the policeman swore he saw her smiling, though.

* * *

The Denbys took Caroline into their home hesitantly, at their daughter’s request.

“I’m sorry about your mum,” Harriet said.

“I’m not,” Caroline replied cooly, voice devoid of expression. “I’m glad she’s gone.”

They sat together on Caroline’s new bed, legs dangling over the edge. They were sisters now, legally and officially, and finally Harriet didn’t feel so alone. She hoped Caroline could find comfort in her as well.

After a few moments of silence, Caroline turned to her new sister and shook her arm. “Can I hold your key?” she asked, making a grabby hand at the chain around Harriet’s neck. “The sun one?”

Harriet batted her hands away. “No, Papa said I’m not allowed to let anyone touch it,” she explained.

Caroline huffed and crossed her arms, then almost immediately perked up. “Let’s go down and see your Sleeping Man,” she urged, a sort of excitement in her eyes Harriet hadn’t seen in a while.

“He’s not  _ my _ Sleeping Man,” Harriet laughed and hopped off the bed, followed closely by Caroline. “Come on, I bet he’s all sad and lonely down there. We can cheer him up!”

* * *

As the years went by, the sisters continued to spend most of their time together, and the Denby’s concerns about adding Caroline to their family melted away. She was perfectly pleasant, a good friend to Harriet, and a good daughter all around.

Still, they focused most of their energy on Harriet. She had a role to fulfill, the fate of the world resting on her shoulders. And besides, Caroline seemed content enough as it was. She didn’t need special attention.

She thrived under a tutor, smarter than anyone had ever thought to give her credit for. Not only was she smart, but she was clever, too. Caroline and Harriet often played chess or cards, and no matter how many tactics Harriet employed to stay a step ahead of her sister, she always ended up out-maneuvered.  
  


“Check,” said Caroline smugly, holding up Harriet’s captured queen. Indeed, that had been Harriet’s last line of defense before Caroline could swoop in and take her king.

They were teenagers—Harriet, nineteen and Caroline, seventeen—and they were down in the cellar with Robert. It was their own little corner of the house, under the quiet, imposing presence of the Sleeping Man.

Caroline liked to think he was cheering her on in their games. Harriet pointed out that he was asleep and was doing no such thing.

She sighed and leaned back in her chair in defeat. “How do you always do that?” she asked.

“Do what?” Caroline said, not looking at her sister as she reset her side the board.

“Beat me,” Harriet replied. “I don’t know how you manage to do it every time.”

“You leave him vulnerable,” Caroline explained, reaching across the board and plucking up Harriet’s king, “and sacrifice too many pieces. You can’t win the game if you don’t have anything to work with.”

Harriet rolled her eyes. “Well, chess isn’t about the other pieces, is it?” she said, snatching back her piece; Caroline didn’t resist. “It’s about keeping the king standing. Who cares about losing a pawn or two?”

Caroline hummed, and folded her hands on the table, casting a glance over to the tank. “I think you underestimate the power of a pawn,” she answered, her eyes flicking back to Harriet’s face. “There’s more than one way to put a king in check.”

Harriet crossed her arms and shook her head. “You’re a funny one, Carrie, you know that?”

Caroline chuckled, and nudged Harriet’s leg with her foot. “You know what your problem is? You never make the first move. You let other people take the initiative and then you fall behind.”

“Uh, because you always pick white!” Harriet retorted, kicking her back.

Her sister’s face hardened for a moment.

“Fine. Then you take white this time,” Caroline said and for the first time, Harriet noticed there was something distinctly bitter in her tone, “you’re supposed to be the pure one anyway.”

Harriet pursed her lips and nodded, not knowing what to say in response to that. She turned the board around and they started again.

Caroline won.

* * *

When Harriet was in her twenties, the nightmares started. At first, they were nothing, just enough to jolt her awake with a racing heart. Soon though, they got worse.

They’d both moved out separately, Harriet finally allowed to attend university and Caroline getting a taste of freedom herself, but they wrote to each other and spoke on the phone every chance they had.

So it was natural that Harriet confide in her sister about the dreams. Terrible, they were. Leering faces, terrible screams, the crack of thunder and lightning splitting the sky in half.

Caroline always listened patiently, humming along in the right places, offering advice where needed. She was a sisterly as could be, and for that Harriet was beyond grateful. With only a little more than a decade to go before the eclipse where Robert would be awakened, the pressure was starting to sink in.

“You just need rest,” Caroline would say. “Why don’t you let me help you take care of him?”

Harriet would only shake her head and take her sister’s hand. “No, it’s my job. I’m the Keeper, after all. But thank you, Carrie.”

Caroline just nodded quietly, and squeezed Harriet’s hand a little tighter than necessary.

* * *

One night, the fuzzy outline of her dreams sharpened into images: children she didn’t know, older men she couldn’t quite recognize, Robert’s face twisted in a snarl...and Caroline, holding Harriet’s key in one fist and a wild smile stretched across her face.

Harriet woke up screaming, face wet with tears. She still called Caroline, told her about everything but that last part; she was almost certain she knew, though.

* * *

When Harriet was thirty and Caroline was twenty-eight, Mr and Mrs Denby died within a few months of each other, their father from a heart attack and their mother from an accident.

Harriet broke down at the funerals; Caroline just stood there, shaking mourners hands and offering up all the right words.

Harriet’s dreams got worse after that, becoming more and more real to the point where she had trouble coming back down from the terror they left her with.

“You need to rest,” Caroline would say.

“I can’t,” Harriet would reply. “Only six more years. Only six more.”

Caroline would just frown, and Harriet would wince.

* * *

One night, soon after, there was a sharp flurry of knocks on Harriet’s door.

Startled out of another nightmare, she stumbled into the hallway and answered it.

“Caroline,” she breathed, trying to shove away the dream of her sister’s cold, furious eyes glaring down at her. “And...a friend?”

“Yes,” her sister soothed. “A friend.” Caroline stepped inside, followed by the man. “We didn’t wake you, did we?” she asked.

“No, Carrie,” Harriet lied warily, looking between her sister and the stranger, “I’ve been up... Shall I put the kettle on?”

Caroline lifted a hand and shook her head. “No need. This won’t be long.”

The man smiled gently at her. “Miss Denby, do you know why I’m here?”

Harriet shook her head, looking over to Caroline for some sort of answer; she just stared back at her.

“I’m here to help you. Your sister explained to me you’re having a bit of a rough time, with visions and, well, I hate to use this term, but hysteria.”

Harriet blinked. “What?” she said, a stone settling in the pit of her stomach. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, love,” Caroline cooed, “I hate so much to see you like this. After mother and father’s death you just haven’t been yourself. Lakehouse will help you.”

“Lakehouse? The clinic?” The man nodded, and Harriet nearly threw up. “I’m not crazy. Carrie, you know I’m not crazy. Why are you—“

“There, you see what I mean, Doctor?” Caroline interrupted, turning toward the stranger. “She keeps calling me by her own name.”

_Her_ name? What was she on about?

“Many patients suffer from breaks with reality after trauma,” the doctor replied as though Harriet wasn’t standing right there. “She is fortunate to have a sister who cares enough to bring this to our attention. She’ll get the help she needs at Lakehouse.”

There’d been no warning, no indication, nothing but a dream to warn Harriet of Caroline’s treachery. And yet in one night, her life had been ripped from her hands by the very person she’d trusted everything with.

* * *

  
She spent a week alone in a hospital room, being plied with drugs she didn’t need, before Caroline visited her. “How are you feeling?” she asked the moment she stepped in the door.

Harriet stared at her silently, struggling to keep her eyes focused. “Why?” she managed to get out.

Caroline traced a finger along the window sill, not looking at her, but whether it was out of dismissal or shame, Harriet couldn’t tell. “You never seem to get it, do you?” she asked, rubbing the dust between her thumb and forefinger. “You spend all your time trying to protect your king that you forget about your knight, your rook, your bishop, your queen.” She walked to the bed and sat down by Harriet’s feet. “And you  always forget about your pawns.”

“I don’t understand.”

Caroline’s lip curled upward in a sneer. “Of course you don’t. You _never_ have,” she snapped. “But I’ve been watching you for as long as I can remember. You were handed everything on a silver platter, but guess what? You aren’t  worthy . You’re not smart, Harriet, you never were. The only thing you ever were was lucky.”

Caroline leaned down slowly toward Harriet and reached around behind her neck to lift the chain that had the sun key on it over her head; Harriet tried to stop her, but the drugs made her arms so heavy.

“Why are you doing this?”

Caroline stilled, tracing her fingers over the key’s design for the first time ever. “Because all my life I’ve been in _your_ shadow,” she said finally. “It’s my turn to get the glory, and if I have to cut you down to get it, then I will.”

“You never said—“

“I shouldn’t have had to!” Caroline snarled. “You should have noticed. But you never did.”

“I thought we were friends,” Harriet said, fighting tears.

“Oh, but we are,” she replied mockingly, and slipped the chain over her head and stood up. “And friends want friends to succeed, don’t they? So watch me succeed, big sister.”

She stalked off toward the door but paused with her hand in the doorknob. “I’m sorry it had to be this way,” she said. “But I want more than what destiny thinks I should be.”

“You want to be the Keeper?” Harriet asked, trying desperately to understand how deep the betrayal went.

“Like I said, you don’t get it,” she replied. “I don’t want what you have...I want to be  _you_.”

“Caroline,” Harriet whimpered, reaching out a shaking hand toward her sister’s back. “Please, don’t do this.”

“Take your meds,” Caroline muttered, wrenching open the door. “They’ll make you feel better.” And with that, she was gone.

It was over. Ammut was gone. Caroline was, too.

In the aftermath of everything, it wasn’t until she was on the airplane to Egypt, next to Robert, her Sleeping Man, that she could really accept that.

“What’s wrong?” Robert asked with his old creaking voice.

“Nothing,” Harriet replied quietly.

He reached a frail hand over and laid it on her arm. “It’s more than okay to grieve someone who hurt you,” he said.

“I barely knew her at all,” Harriet admitted, “but that’s my own fault. I guess I miss the sister I thought I had.” Robert sighed but nodded in sympathy. “Really, it’s quite alright. Perhaps...well, Robert are you very good at chess?”

The old man blinked. “Chess? Well, yes, my dear. I’m a strategist.” He paused then chuckled. “Though, I was always far better at Senet.”

Harriet nodded, and looked out the window, laying her forehead against the glass, looking down at the earth far below. “Yes,” she said. “I suppose you were.”

_ Checkmate, Caroline, wherever you are. I finally won. _

She sniffled, blinked, then burst into tears.

_ Checkmate. _


End file.
